Moving On

“Watching you walk out of my life does not make me bitter or cynical about love. But rather makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person how beautiful it will be when the right one comes along.”

I don't know a lot about a lot of things, but there is one thing I think I have seen my fair share of in 23 years; and that is heartbreak. That good 'ol icecream-binging, drowning in a sea of Kleenex, clinging to your pillow for dear life kinda heartbreak. I'm pretty sure my teen years to now have pretty much put food on the table for the employees at Ben and Jerry's.

Once again, I put myself out there and was burned. I was vulnerable. I gave it my all. And it came back to just not be so. I didn't really see it coming; and I guess that is the most painful part of heartbreak--when you are so enamored with the person that you fail to see that their thoughts on the matter are changing.

I'm not going to use this post as a boy-bashing, spiteful response to the anger and distress I feel. It would no doubt be easier than trying to be reflective and insightful, but it accomplishes nothing. It doesn't put the spring back in my step or stop the tears from flowing from my eyes. Instead, it builds and builds and the resentment I feel is eventually taken out on every person I meet. Especially those of the male gender. Part of me wants to put up walls; I want to guard my heart from the invasion of anything that likes ESPN and inappropriately adjusts itself in public.

Every time I attempt to give up on the male race, however, God kindly points me back to my family. I watch my father beam with pride when he has purchased or done something that makes my mom smile; it may be a trash can or a garden hose, but it is something he saw that she was missing, and he is overjoyed to give it to her.

I see my Pawpaw Reely leaving sweet post-it notes for my Mimi. He brings her Subway for lunch and sends her flowers just to let her know he cares. He is an elder in the church and a leader of our family. Though the amount of articles and clippings he has cut out for me through the years could fill up three dump trucks, it is a constant reminder that I am on his mind; and that he cares about what I am doing and what I am currently interested in.

Then you have Papa Huddleston, a quiet man with a gentle strength and dry humor that only the best can catch. He was one of the most respected men in his community and my Mema always talks about how proud she was to be by his side; I've heard her often remark that she couldn't believe that he chose her; not only did he choose her, he loved her deeply and was a great example of what a man should be.

When I'm really feeling low, I tell myself, "Those guys don't exist anymore. That ended with my grandparents' generation!"

It is then that Ryan comes thudding down the stairs with his massive feet and "You Can't Have Your Bread and Loaf too" tank top on. He gives that smirk, and I can't help but be proud that he is my brother; that a 22-year-old boy is capable of kindness and love. Kelsey, too, is a great display of all that a young man should be. He may be strong and look like a Greek god (haha), but he has a deep compassion for people and a drive to make the world a better place. He has had some hard knocks lately, too, and it just goes to show me that I am not alone in my journey through pain.

I am not so naive as to think that a few chants of "Girl Power" and a few renditions of "I Will Survive," will alleviate what I am going through. It is going to take some time; and it is not going to be easy. But I know that--like always--I will be fine and move on with my life.

Even though it is easier to hate, I will love. Even though it is easier to hold a grudge, I will forgive. Even though it is easier to stay captive, I will set myself free.